Durallae
by Jamasia
Summary: A story from the early years of the eleventh Abhorsen. Uploaded chapter by chapter. Chapter 4 up - just over 1k words.
1. Chapter 1

Torrael could see nothing, hear nothing. He was alone, could do nothing. It was peaceful, he didnt care. He could have lain there for hours or seconds, he didnt know, time being warped in Death. He felt a welcome presence nearby and hand reached down and grasped his, pulling him from the river. The Dead creature had grown twice as large since it knocked him down, its body twisting between inhuman shapes. Water still pouring off him, Torrael looked at the Abhorsen who nodded. They separated and tried to surround the creature. It spun round, arm stretching, almost hitting the Abhorsen. Torrael seeing its back and took his chance, stabbing it where he thought its heart should be, the charter marks burning a hole its Dead shape. Then Saraneth rang out and Torrael felt the creature struggle against Abhorsens will. Quickly he drew his Saraneth and joined in the binding. As the creature succumbed to their will, Abhorsen switched his bell to Kibeth and forced the creature to walk beyond the Ninth Gate.

Abhorsen turned towards him.

"Good binding, Torrael. Well Done."

Torrael didnt answer, still catching his breath.

* * *

They packed up the camp as soon as they returned to life. There were fewer incursions of Dead now, but every time they were stronger. There hadn't been anything for a while now, this could be the last time.

"We will travel west to Qyrre then back to the House. We should be in Qyrre by morning then a day by boat to the house." said Abhorsen, walking quickly into the forest.

"And I'll be glad to be back. I've nearly finished my Sending and I think this one will better than my previous attempts."

"If I remember correctly, Torrael, your last attempt dug a twenty foot hole in the North Lawn then fall apart."

"No, no, no! That was an older one. My last one is still whitewashing the tower, for all I know."

Abhorsen chuckled, brushing a branch out of the way. He started at nothing for a while, then sighed.

"I see a lot of your mother in you. She was always –"

"What was that?" exclaimed Torrael, "Something is ahead."

They drew their swords moments before a runner burst through the undergrowth.

"My Lords Abhorsen! There has been news of strange creatures in Norwel.l Also, the villagers in Ganel say there is – there is something wrong with their Charter Stone."

"Torrael, you should see the Charter Stone, you're half Wallmaker. I shall see about this creature in Norwell. If we're lucky it will just be a soul not wanting to let go. Runner? Norwell is north of Belisaere, isn't it?"

"Yes Abhorsen," replied the runner "Just – just south of Navis Port."

Abhorsen and Torrael grasped arms briefly.

"Abhorsen, this is my first time solo and –"

"Don't worry, you've been a good student. Does the walker choose the path, or the path choose the walker, Torrael. Abhorsen."


	2. Chapter 2

Torrael returned to Qyrre as the sun set. The Abhorsen, the other Abhorsen had taken a boat and was travelling up the cost to Navis Port. As payment for their work, Torrael was given free board in the local inn, as the locals had little. In his room he took a small mechanical item from his pack and placed it on his desk. It looked like a brass pocketwatch, emblazoned with the Wallmakers' Trowel and the Stars of the Clayr. The device had belonged to his mother. The charter magic was fading now and Torrael had decided to renew the marks but had as yet been unsuccessful. He removed his bells and unbuckled his hauberk then sat down on the bed, picking up the device and turning it over and over in his hands.

The underside of the device was just a simple mirror, but incredibly clear and unmarked. He could see faded marks flowing across the surface, thousands and thousands, almost all of them unknown. As he put it down to get some sleep, something white flashed across the glass, but Torrael dismissed it as a reflection.

* * *

He left at dawn, passing though the morning mist, shapes appearing and disappearing in to the imagination. The number of Dead had been low in recent years, but there were always new necromancers or charter mages who had turned their hand to Free Magic for their own gain. Torrael was mindful of this as he passed through a boulder field left there once by the flooding river. They could be hiding behind those rocks, waiting to strike. He felt for the border between his world and that of the black river, but could sense no Dead. He pressed on towards the Ratterlin, still a day away.

It was his plan to take the ferry to Robles Town and buy a horse otherwise it could take a week to travel to Ganel. He considered going back to the House to get Gaia, his first successful horse sending, who could leave the House and travel without tiring. Gaia had served him well in the past but had developed a temperament recently, and didn't want to be ridden. No, it was best to get to Ganel as fast as possible. Something wrong with the Charter Stone? He had heard that necromancers could break Stones and kill the marks that flow across it, but had never heard of something being wrong. He passed several merchants on the way who noted the bells and nodded in acknowledgement, one service provider to another. All merchants were the same, believing they were on par with the King. Torrael couldn't help smiling as they passed.

He was nearing the river at nightfall and was prepared to make camp in the woods when he felt something cross the border into life. Drawing his sword, he sought for the direction and heard something coming towards him fast. He could tell it was weak and could have broken into life by a chance death nearby. He raised his sword and drew Saraneth moments before a black shape scuttled out of a bush. It was about the size of a small dog and shaped like an elongated pear. It must have sensed him because it shrank and tried to lunge to the side. Torrael managed to skewer it with his sword – it screamed and twisted but could not escape. He replaced Saraneth and drew Kibeth, clasping it in both hands. As he was about to ring it, something crashed through the bushes behind him, knocking him to the floor. The bell from his hands, ringing discordantly, several tones cutting through the twilight. He felt himself being pulled into Death and heard a whimper beside him. He forced himself up and managed to silence the bell, destroying its influence. The Dead creature was gone, if not past the Ninth Gate, then at least deep into Death. He returned the bell to its pouch and saw blood on his bandolier. Wiping the blood that was now running from his nose down his chin, he turned to look at who had knocked him down. Lying on the floor still, looking up at him, was a girl a little younger than himself. Her simple clothes had been torn by her scramble through the undergrowth. She stood up shakily then hugged him tightly, whispering "Thank you. You saved my life".


	3. Chapter 3

Orange light flickered across the camp, illuminating Torrael patching his broken nose, and the girl. She was sleeping fitfully now, but he was still concerned for her. After the Dead thing had disappeared, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep and slept for several hours, waking late in the night. Torrael had stayed up to keep watch and was still awake. When she woke, she didn't say much, just that she had been chased by something Dead for a few days. And her name. Arielle.

It was close to dawn now and Torrael had a decision to make. He couldn't leave Arielle but he had to continue to Ganel. As the sun emerged through the leaves, he put out the fire and went over to Arielle. Crouching down beside her, he gently grasped her shoulder, but she still started.

"Arielle, we need to leave now. You can accompany me to Abhorsen's House where you can stay until you get better, but I'll have to leave soon after we arrive."

"Abhorsen's House? You are the Abhorsen?"

"No. Well, I'm the next Abhorsen. The Abhorsen should be near Belisaere by now."

"Yes, the next Abhorsen." She replied, with no irony in her voice.

"Just call me Torrael."

"Yes Torrael."

If the girl kept up this subservient behaviour, thought Torrael, then he'd become tried of her long before he was rid of her. Arielle stood up and dressed herself in Torrael's spare leather hunting trousers and hauberk, both too large for her, making her look even smaller. They breakfasted on the last of Torrael's food and made their way to Qyrre – a minor detour, but a necessary one to resupply.

They arrived at Qyrre at about midday when the market was in full swing. They walked through the market bargaining for this and haggling for that, Torrael doing most of the talking and Arielle staying close behind but gazing, almost in awe, at the variety of foods and trinkets. At one particular stall, buying bread, Torrael noticed that Arielle was no longer beside him, but a few stalls back just staring at an item in a jewellery stall, a pendant with small red stone set in it. He quickly paid for the bread and went back to her to urge her to continue.

"Arielle, we need to go quickly, the ferry will leave soon. Arielle?"

She didn't move, still looking at the pendant. Looking at it Torrael could see charter marks flowing across and though it, changing the colour from orange to red and back again. He looked at Arielle and realised she didn't bear the charter mark on her forehead, and so couldn't see the marks flowing, just the constantly changing surface of the stone.

For the first time he really looked at her. Before, he'd only seen a near feral scared little girl, an annoyance who slowed him down. Now he could see that despite being dirty still, from her chase in the forest, she must be more than a farmer's daughter. Her hair was a long and straight brown but turning a fiery orange when the sun caught it and her hands were smooth and could not possibly have done a day's work in their life. She was thin, though, very thin and still had red circles round her eyes, and one or two fading bruises. She must be a noble's daughter, but he had no idea as to had she had turned up in a forest after obviously no short time living wild and running scared.

"Arielle," he said again "we have to go."

Still she ignored him, but raised her hand up to the stone and said "It feels familiar to me. It's like – like it reminds me of somewhere I've forgotten."

Torrael didn't need this. He bought the pendant, paying way too much for it, be he had to press on. As he placed it in her hand, she seemed to wake from a dream, and looked up at him, and smiled.

"We need to hurry if we are to catch the ferry, Torrael."

Understandably, he was nonplussed at this sudden change of attitude. Perhaps it was that Torrael had been nice to her, instead of just hurrying her along and telling her to keep up. He chastised himself for being unfriendly, but not so much because he had a job to do which would now take longer. He followed her to the ferry and could swear she almost had a skip in her step.

* * *

It would take a day and a half to get to the Abhorsen's House on the ferry, as it stopped at every little town and village on the way, so they had plenty of spare time. Torrael spent most of his time practising his swordsmanship on the main deck. Arielle said and did little, sometimes staring into the water or passing scenery and sometimes watching Torrael practice. On the evening of the first night, they shored up at a large island and Torrael chose to spend the night the rather than be kept awake by the boat rising and falling at every ripple. He chose a place on the opposite side of the island to the boat, about 80 yards or so away.

After removing his bells and hauberk he set about making a fire, using his sword to cut some branches from a nearby tree. He then realised he had left his pack on the ferry and went to retrieve it, not that anybody would take it, but he preferred to have it with him. When he returned, there was a fire going, Arielle crouched nearby. She had removed her hauberk and was holding the pendant.

"How did you start a fire, you're not a charter mage?" he asked. There was a short pause but Torrael was used to her silences.

"I really am grateful for what you've done, Abhorsen. When I was in the forest I was so scared. And that thing. That thing kept chasing me. Why? But then you saved me. How can I ever thank you enough?" Torrael was taken aback. She this was the most she's spoken since they'd met, maybe there was some hope for her yet.

"I'm still frightened, but I'm feeling better now. Apart from – apart from I can only remember flashes before the forest. So bright and vivid. Fire. And darkness… a lot of darkness…" At this she started crying. Torrael hadn't had much experience of crying girls but he did his best and held her in a tight embrace as she wept into his shoulder.

"Everything will be alright Arielle. It will all come back, and then you can return to your family and continue your life. I don't want repaying, I'm just glad I can help. And I will help, I'll help you regain your memory"

"What if I don't want to know?"

Torrael had no reply to this.

Eventually she fell asleep and he laid her on the ground, placing a furskin under her head as a cushion. He noticed the pendant again, clasped loosely in her hand. Was it the reflection of the fire that made it glow? He bent over to look at it closer, to see the charter marks in their endless flow. Strange. He saw marks of peace and sleep but also of binding and fire and destruction. And then they we gone replaced by simple marks of enchantment. He doused the fire and lay down to sleep, clutching the pocketwatch-like device, turning it over and over like every night.


	4. Chapter 4

The leisurely start the next day did not please Torrael, but Arielle seemed happier after a decent night's sleep. The sun was high before they boat left the shore and Torrael was conscious that every delayed hour could bring peril to Ganel. They could be wrong, but if they weren't then he needed to make haste. He would take Gaia, no matter how she felt. And Merret, too. He could change his form at will, if he wanted to, but he was still bitter about the binding and despite being servant to the Abhorsen, did as little as he could to help. He could leave Arielle at the House until she regained her memory, then she could be returned to wherever she came from.

Later in the day a party boarded the ferry, swaggering onto the deck, bound for the Long Cliffs. They claimed they were off to see the barbarians south of the Wall, and had brought enough weapons to weigh down a pack of horses.

One, obviously the leader as he wore gold around his neck, sat himself down in the centre of the main deck and ordered the ferryman to bring him some beer. When it was established that there was none, he and his men began to lounge on the deck, and the leader pulled a large flask from about his person. He was about to take a mouthful when he noticed Arielle. She was just sitting there, wrapped in a furskin too large for her, watching the fish swim by. A grin spread across his face as he rose unsteadily to his feet and walked over to Arielle, casting his shadow over her.

"You look cold, darling. Want me to warm you up?" At this his men burst into laughter. "It should never be alone, a pretty face like that." He said, eliciting another bout of laughter from his men.

"Please go" whispered Arielle.

"What was that, _chebella_?"

There was a sudden movement and a splash at the end of which, the man was floundering in the water. There was a call from the men questioning his ability with women and more laughter.

Another man, possibly the previous man's friend, or just someone trying his luck, walked over to Arielle.

"Here, what did you do to the Chief?" This got no reply.

"I'm talking to you, girl."

"Torrael?" she called.

"Torrael? What's a Torrael, love?"

"Me," he said quietly "And I ask you to forget your quest and return to Estwael, Gark."

Torrael had kept his bells off – being on running water, there was no chance he'd need them – and all Gark saw when he looked at him was a young man, unshaven and slight, with sword hanging from his waist.

"Is this a joke?" he said, turning to the rest of the group "Did you set this up?"

"No, Gark from the Mountains, this is no joke" replied Torrael "Please do not hassle my companion"

Gark grabbed Arielle by the wrist and dragged her to her feet. Drawing his sword, he waved it at Torrael, who in turn drew his sword. Gark's men stood, quickly but unsteadily, having been sharing the contents of the flask. There was the sound of several weapons being unsheathed.

"We take what we want, boy, and I say she's mine"

"For Charter's sake, leave'm alone. He meant nothing by it," warned the ferryman "I'll not have blood spilled on my deck."

Gark looked at the old man, then back at Torrael and lowered his weapon. He pulled Arielle closer, his hand surely bruising her wrist, his knuckles white.

"You're right old man, he's not worth it. I was only going to teach the whelp a lesson about what's his and what's mine."

"Quiet fool, or I'll have you off this boat. I was talking to the Abhorsen"

Gark look around, confusion clearly showing on his face. Then his gaze settled on Torrael's bag, then on Torrael. His expression remained frozen, but his eyes widened and his grip loosened, giving Arielle chance to tear away and re-join Torrael. Gark fell to his knees.

"My Lord, many apologies. I did not know she… and I have been drinking too much Olmondwine recently, I, I – my apologies."

"No lasting harm was done. Please apologise to Arielle and remove your friend from the water before he fouls it."

This mobilised the entire party into action, trying to retrieve their Chief from the grasp of the Ratterlin. As they passed Arielle in single file, there was a muttered "sorry miss" by every one of them accompanied by a cheer from the rest of the passengers.

When the man was back on deck, dripping wet and a little worse for wear, the party sat sullenly in a corner, decidedly not drinking. While Torrael was talking with some of the passengers, Arielle walked over to the Estwaelans, to the man who had grabbed her. She bent down so her lips almost touched his ear and whispered something. They departed at the next stop.

* * *

Later, as the sun set Torrael joined Arielle at the bow, her feet dangling over the edge, catching the spray.

"Let me see your wrist," he said "I might be able to help."

"You can't even fix your own nose. Am I supposed to trust you with my wrist?"

"Was that a joke?" he asked, smiling "Did Miss Daydream make a joke?"

She didn't respond, but instead turned her head away so her hair fell across her face.

The smile left Torrael's face as a question entered his mind.

"Arielle, about today. How did the Estwaelan Chief end up in the river? The rails were too high for him to simply have fallen in. He could only have been pushed." He left the question, unsaid, hanging in the air.

She looked up at him angrily, tears welling up.

"Why do you have to ruin it? I thought I could just be as myself, but no people have to ask questions! I mean, what does it matter where I'm from? What does it matter why he was in the water? If you care about him, you should see if _he's_ alright" Why – why are you even helping me?"

She stood up and stormed off to the packs, only turning to shout "And my wrist is fine, no thanks to you and your Charter Magic!"

Arielle didn't speak to him as they departed at the Long cliffs and made their way to the House.


End file.
